


Obliviate

by TheVioletHour (TinternAbbey)



Category: Arrested Development
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Multi, and a school that (gasp) isn’t Hogwarts, it’s a Harry Potter AU...with club sauce, starring Gob as a hopeless Muggleborn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-01-07 14:27:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18412502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinternAbbey/pseuds/TheVioletHour
Summary: With a sudden flourish, Tony appeared in the middle of the classroom, tossing his invisibility cloak over his shoulder. “Did somebody say...wonder?”The girls in class thought this was terribly clever. “I wouldn’t mind a little wonder inside me,” said Eve Holt.“Bravo, bravo!” cried Tobias, clapping his hands at Tony’s stunt. “You, Mr. Wonder, are a natural performer as well as a brilliant wizard. It thrills me right down to my under-shorts whenever I witness your wand-work. Class, I do hope you follow his example.Hereis a young man who puts his ten inches to good use!”“There’s probably a better way to say that, but I’ll take the compliment,” said Tony.





	1. Gob Bluth and the Half-Mad Family

**Author's Note:**

> Over the years, I must have come across fifty bajillion Harry Potter AUs for a variety of fandoms, but I don’t recall ever seeing one that focuses on a Muggleborn character. Which just _seems_ like the perfect concept for somebody like Gob. So I really couldn’t resist writing this. Enjoy!

Mr. and Mrs. Bluth of Newport Beach, California, were proud to say that they were perfectly wealthy, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to associate with those who didn't own a yacht or join the country club, because they just didn't hold with such poor breeding.

Mr. Bluth was the head of a real estate company, which sold model homes. He was a balding, bespectacled man with hardly any morals, though he did have a very large number of frozen bananas. Mrs. Bluth was thin and judgmental and had nearly twice the usual number of alcoholic drinks, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time sitting around her penthouse, trying to cope with her family. The Bluths had four young children and in their opinion there was no bigger challenge anywhere.

Especially their oldest child.

The firstborn son, Gob, had risen late—as usual—on the morning of his eleventh birthday. Aside from an extra squirt of whipped cream on his waffles, courtesy of the maid when his mother's back was turned, it was a day like any other. They were not big on celebrating birthdays in the Bluth household. Something to do with disappointments, according to his father, who always said it with a disapproving glance in Gob's direction. It had soured the whole tradition of birthday celebrations, which resulted in very little fanfare and an extra dose of vodka in Lucille's breakfast martini.

After demolishing his waffles—twice as fast as Michael, who refused to eat with his hands—Gob kept out of his mother's way and stole a visit to his brother Buster's room, hoping to make his toys soar through the air. He had done it three times before, though he could never figure out how. When he tried mentioning it to his mother, she was convinced he had taken a few hits of Uncle Oscar's "afternoon delight."

But Gob _knew_ it had been real. _Somehow_. It had also been nice, almost, to make Buster (who was even sissier than the average baby brother) laugh when his stuffed seal went floating across the room.

The twins seemed to believe him—halfway, at least. Lindsay thought her weird growth spurt was _his_ fault, for instance, and kept ransacking his bedroom searching for voodoo dolls. Michael just glanced at him suspiciously sometimes, as if expecting Gob to burst into flames. Neither of them could forget the time Michael had chased him around the yard, goaded by their camera-wielding father for some prime BoyFights footage, when suddenly Gob had _flown_ up into a particularly large tree. Michael, too stunned to climb after him, always swore Gob had cheated somehow. But both of them knew better; that strange things always seemed to happen around Gob, though Gob could never explain it.

And it always seemed to happen when he felt angry or scared.

Or dejected.

Buster's room was quiet when Gob crept inside. His youngest brother was passed out in bed, probably due to the numerous empty juice boxes littering the floor. He clutched his latest favorite toy, a plush pirate doll with a hook for a hand. Lucille hated it. _As gaudy as a homosexual on the Second of July,_ was her opinion on pirates. But Buster took comfort in the toy, mistakenly believing the hook was simply an eating utensil held by a constantly hungry pirate.

Gob could easily shatter his illusions. But then he would remember landing in that tree, with Michael gaping up at him in bewilderment, and figured he'd let the little twerp keep believing. The hook had gotten so stained with gummy bears that it barely resembled a fearsome claw, anyway.

Too bad Buster was sleeping off a juice overdose. The brat would have wished him a happy birthday, at least. Would have _remembered_ , unlike his parents, who thought his existence was an unsightly blot on the family history—and no, he was _not_ going to get all choked up like a little girl. Not that anyone could see him, but he blinked back the _moisture_ in his eyes anyway, before they left telltale tracks on his face.

And that was when he noticed Buster's pirate had turned completely blue.

* * *

"It's not like I expected any better from you," Lucille informed him over her martini an hour later. "But ten is far too old to be painting your brother's toys, Gob."

"Eleven," Gob corrected. "I'm _eleven_ now, Mom. And it's not paint! The stupid toy just _became_ blue, all on its own—"

But Lucille waved him off, already bored with lecturing him. "Apologize to Buster. He's _distraught_."

Stupid baby Buster. The moment he woke up and discovered his pirate doll, he'd gone crying to their mother—the wuss. He was currently parked in front of the TV, taking comfort in another juice box, and his tiny mouth trembled when Gob approached.

"H-hey, brother," Buster hiccuped, eyes all glassy with tears.

"Sorry," Gob said carelessly, tossing out the word like a piece of trash.

Which was good enough for Buster. He smiled and stuck his juice straw in his mouth, then turned back to his cartoons. It was dumb, really, how Buster didn't think twice about forgetting (though probably not forgiving) the whole incident, but somehow it made Gob want to choke up again. He hurried away, before something else decided to change color, and almost ran right into the maid.

She was highly confused, and not only because Gob nearly knocked her over. According to Rosa, an _owl_ had landed on the balcony five minutes before.

"And it brought this letter," she said, handing it to Gob.

"A birthday card?" Gob demanded, forgetting to repress the excitement in his voice.

The envelope was unusually thick, addressed to _George Oscar Bluth II_ in purple cursive. He ripped it open and found a letter, which began:

_Dear Mr. Bluth,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at The Desert Academy of Magic and Illusions._

Gob stared in disbelief at his letter. Then he began to react like a broken record.

After several minutes of stuttering, he finally shouted:

"I'm-I'm-I'm a WIZARD?"

* * *

The Bluths wouldn't accept the letter until Barry Zuckerkorn, the family lawyer, had glanced it over.

"My second cousin's a wizard," said Barry. "Or _was_ a wizard. I think they snapped his wand after an incident in Vegas. Snapped it _right_ in half."

All the males in the room collectively shuddered. "Ouch," said Gob.

"I believe it was his _other_ wand—the magic one—but I wouldn't know for sure. I'm no longer allowed within twenty yards of Vegas. _Just_ when I was starting to hit some jackpots, too."

"And the school?" Lucille prompted.

Barry made a face. "Oh, no. I can't get within _thirty_ yards of any school. Used to be forty, but I managed to get it shortened—"

" _Gob's_ school! The one he's supposed to be attending this fall. Is it a scam?"

Barry shuffled his papers in a very important, lawyerly manner. "Oh, the school's real enough. Lots of kids there, waving their wands—some of them up to twelve inches, I've heard. It's a _great_ school."

"Always knew the kid was a weirdo," George Sr. remarked.

Gob, for the first time in his life, didn't care what his father thought of him. All day long he had been thinking unusually hard, looking back on all the strange things that kept happening to him. The whole time, he had been doing _magic_. And there was a place out there in the desert that actually _wanted_ him. It was enough to numb the disappointment of his birthday; enough to make him smile giddily to himself while his acceptance letter was passed around the living room, going from one set of Bluth hands to another.

Excluding Buster, who was staring out at the balcony in horror. "Big _bird_."

The owl that delivered Gob's letter was still loitering outside the penthouse, much to Buster's dismay.

"It says, 'We await your letter by no later than July 31'," said Michael, who currently held the letter. "Does that mean they want a reply?"

"I could have figured that out. It's _my_ letter," said Gob, snatching it from him. "Who's got a pen?"

Once the owl flapped away and Barry took off, the penthouse grew quiet. Far _too_ quiet, considering the fantastic revelation that had just taken place. George Sr. wandered off to the bathroom and Lucille headed to the liquor cabinet, leaving Gob with the list of books and supplies he would need at his new school. Not a word of congratulations. Or a happy birthday. Neither of his parents had grasped the importantance of the word _wizard_. As if Gob was destined to learn nothing more than some silly tricks, like the ones performed at the birthday parties all the neighbor kids had. They didn't understand that this was magic—real, _actual_ magic—that went beyond pulling a rabbit from a hat.

Buster had gone with Lucille, clinging to her like a juice-sucking leech. Only Michael and Lindsay remained in the living room, both of them sneaking glances at Gob like they had never met him before.

Michael spoke first. "That time you got into the tree... was that magic?"

"Had to have been," said Gob. "You should have seen your face!"

"Work some magic right _now_ ," Lindsay requested.

"I don't know if I can. It just kind of _happens_ , when I don't expect it. This morning I turned Buster's pirate doll blue, but I don't know how."

"Lame," said Lindsay. "I'll bet I'm a witch—a really good one. Just wait until _I'm_ old enough for magic school."

That was when the twins exchanged a startled glance.

"It's your birthday, isn't it?" Michael asked Gob. "Mom and Dad never said."

Gob shrugged it off, trying to absorb himself in his school supplies list. "Not a big deal. And it's not like I didn't already get the _best_ present ever, Mikey. Come on!"

"From some weird school you've never even heard of," said Lindsay, sneaking a peek at Gob's list. "You have to wear _robes_? Like a monk?"

Gob frowned at the required wardrobe. "Maybe the school has a spa."

"And a pointed hat! You're going to look like such a dork!"

Gob tried casting a spell on his sister; something to make her hair fall out, maybe. But whatever fueled his random bursts of power was currently asleep. He only succeeded in making several futile hand gestures, which only made Lindsay and Michael laugh at him harder.

Which was _no_ proper way to treat a magician.

Wizard. Whatever.

* * *

In the end, Uncle Oscar was the only adult willing to drive Gob to the train station when September 1 arrived. He loaded Gob up in his dusty Volkswagen bus, which smelled strongly of weed, and helped him carry his brand-new school trunk. George Sr. and Lucille both hugged him goodbye, at least, before heading off to their very important yacht club meeting.

"I always knew you were a weirdo," Uncle Oscar said from behind the wheel, but from him it sounded like a compliment.

The rest of the family still struggled to accept the notion that an entire world existed secretly without them. Being a wizard, Gob had learned, was like belonging to a private club where no _Muggles_ —people like his parents—were ever allowed. Which naturally did not sit well with the Bluths.

"If this school is so exclusive, I don't see how Gob got in," Lucille had declared. "And there's no reason why Michael can't. We'll write to this Academy of Magic and Tricks and reserve him a spot."

"Illusions, Mom," Gob had corrected her, for what felt like the fiftieth time. "And it doesn't work that way. Professor Parmesan said so."

Professor Gene Parmesan, one of the teachers at the Academy, had personally paid the Bluths a visit the week after Gob's letter arrived. He even did a demonstration of his magical skills, which involved a series of facial illusions that had Lucille in hysterics. Professor Parmesan explained all about the "wizarding world," which existed mainly in secrecy, and told Gob how to reach the magical shopping center hidden in the depths of San Francisco. Gob even got special wizard money to buy his school things.

As Uncle Oscar's bus approached the train station, Gob checked the pocket of his school robes—pale gray in color and lightweight for the desert weather. His fingers brushed against a patch of feathers. According to his school supplies list, students were allowed to have a cat or an owl or a toad.

But nobody ever said he couldn't keep a dove for a pet.

* * *

The Desert Academy of Magic and Illusions was one of two wizarding schools in America. The first and oldest was located in Massachusetts. For over two hundred years it was the only American school for witches and wizards, until the free-spirited West, in competition with the more straight-laced, traditional East, erected a second school in the Arizona desert.

Years later, the founders admitted that they could have picked a more creative name. But no one could deny that The Desert Academy educated its pupils just as well as its East Coast counterpart.

The school resembled a giant sand castle when Gob spied it from a distance. When the setting sun hit the towers, the whole place lit up as perfectly as a postcard photograph. The beauty helped ease the fact that he was sitting (by his own choice, _obviously)_ alone on the train. For the most part. Two other kids sat in his compartment, both of them thirteen or fourteen at least, and neither had bothered saying a word to him.

Which was _fine_. He was used to being alone. He _liked_ being alone.

It was still a relief, though, when the train pulled into a lonely station situated on a barren, scrubby patch of land. Several horse-drawn stagecoaches awaited the students, like something out of a cowboy movie, and soon Gob was crammed into a seat with several gray-robed kids, a cat, and three owl cages.

The kid directly across from him—a boy with spiky black hair—was telling a blonde girl his family had all been wizards for several generations.

"My parents knew I'd be accepted here since the moment I was born," said the boy, a little smugly.

The girl didn't look impressed. Then again, her eyebrows seemed unusually stiff. "Well _my_ father runs the school. I don't even _need_ an acceptance letter."

Their conversation made Gob feel suddenly small. Professor Parmesan had assured him he wasn't the only student from a non-magical family, but he felt exactly the way he did when George Sr. talked about real estate and business and _blah blah blah_. Only Michael ever seemed interested in those discussion, while Gob always sat with a glazed expression, listening to the buzzing of bees from the penthouse window.

He was stupid to think he belonged at this school. The other kids could probably turn their brother's toys blue on _purpose_ , with a fancy spell and everything.

"I've made a huge mistake," Gob whispered to himself.

But the stagecoach rolled to a stop and he was ushered out in a sea of kids and luggage, unable to turn back and demand to go home. The school seemed even more like a sand castle up close, its walls sparkling in the fading sun. It wasn't until Gob stepped through the entrance hall that he remembered the feathery passenger in his pocket. His pet hadn't made a peep since he got on the train.

"Whoops," he said, as the bird tumbled lifeless onto the polished marble floor. "Does anyone have a spell that will wake up a dove?"

* * *

The headmaster, Professor Sitwell, was the strangest looking man Gob had ever seen. He stood at the front of the dining hall, wearing a magnificent set of snowy-white robes, and watched the students choose seats at several long tables.

Professor Sitwell sported a navy blue afro, complete with sideburns and bushy eyebrows a few shades lighter. Gob was reminded of Buster's pirate doll and let out a chuckle, much to the annoyance of the blonde girl who had ridden in his stagecoach. The boy with spiky hair was also seated nearby.

"I heard Sitwell is completely hairless," the boy murmured, leaning in toward Gob. "He whips up his own hair spells. Conjures a different look every week or two."

Professor Sitwell began to talk, but Gob had never been good at listening to speeches and quickly shut him out. He focused on the blue afro instead and tried not to think about his dove, which had been confiscated by a teacher. He could write home for another, he was told. As if Lucille and George Sr. would ever set foot in a filthy bird store. Uncle Oscar might, if he had a mailing address. The guy seemed to live in his Volkswagen.

Once Sitwell finished his speech, he was succeeded by Professor Argyle Austero, the deputy headmaster and professor of Magical Performing Arts. In a puff of colorful smoke, he appeared on a makeshift stage and put on a twenty-minute show in the style of David Bowie (who was a noteworthy Hogwarts graduate, in case you didn't know). He concluded the performance with a vigorous tap-dance routine.

"Thank you, thank you," said Argyle, bowing to his audience as applause erupted through the hall. He hopped down from the stage, twirling a fancy cane that contained his wand, and made a shower of rainbow sparks fly overhead.

"His sister teaches here too," whispered the spiky-haired boy. "I heard she can't ride a broom without getting dizzy and falling off."

"I'd like to make a few announcements," Argyle continued, once the applause died down. "First, that the annual school musical is _The Wizard of Ozkaban_ , and auditions will be held in the second week of term. Let me also remind you that magic is not allowed in the hallways, with no exceptions." He gripped the top of his cane, eyes glittering behind his full-moon spectacles. "And finally, I must tell you that this year, being an imposter is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Gob started snickering. Somebody elbowed him to shut up.

Argyle smiled and resumed his seat with the rest of the teachers.

Gob was wondering what the spiky-haired kid was called when food suddenly appeared on the table, completely out of nowhere. After gaping at his plate for several seconds, Gob remembered he was starving and grabbed a chicken leg. He half-expected it to evaporate the moment his teeth sank into the meat, but the chicken was _real_ and delicious.

It occurred to Gob, once the bewilderment of his surroundings wore off, that his family had good reason to be jealous of him for once. There he was, attending school in Arizona—which Michael _really_ wanted to do, for some reason—without having to lift a single hand for himself. Lindsay would kill for the chance to be so lazy. And servants that cooked food without being seen or heard? If he could find a way to replicate that at home, Lucille would never call him useless again.

Only one thing still bothered him. Nobody had mentioned how long he was supposed to wear these robes.

"So," he said, nudging the older girl seated next to him. "Where do they keep the private spa?"

* * *

The boy with spiky black hair, it turned out, was named Tony Wonder. And he happened to be the most talented kid in Gob's year.

All the professors loved him.

_Class, watch the way Wonder flicks his wand._

_Follow Wonder's example_ — _his draught is simmering perfectly!_

_If you were more like Wonder, Mr. Bluth, I wouldn't have to keep giving you detention._

The professors did _not_ care for Gob.

As if he could help it that his parents were stupid rich Muggles who cared more about real estate than magic. Come on.

Gob tried in his classes. He _did_ , more than he had ever tried at anything before. But his spellwork was always off. His potions turned the wrong color. Writing with quill and parchment was _hard_.

But Tony—perfect, _wonder_ ful Tony—rarely made a mistake. Two months into school, he awed their Transfiguration class when he successfully turned his own left hand into a slice of bread. Simply for extra credit. Gob, meanwhile, felt like the Geobead of the Year when he tried transforming a mouse and sent it scuttling out the classroom door instead. The boy seated next to him, who was also a Muggleborn, had little trouble turning his mouse into a china teacup, when _he_ knew as little of the Wizarding World as Gob did.

Professor Parmesan, whose mother was a Muggle, tried to assure him that blood status had nothing to do with a wizard's skill. The fact that Tony was brilliant _and_ a Pureblood was complete coincidence.

Others on campus felt differently on the matter.

A boy known as Pureblood Bill openly despised those with Muggle blood. He never hesitated to laugh at Gob's failed spellwork and often shouted "Pureblood power!" when terrorizing his schoolmates.

One afternoon, Gob was loitering outside near the Herbology greenhouses when he heard the world _Mudblood_ for the first time.

He was trying to clear his muddled head after another failed Potions lesson, and something about the school grounds seemed to help. Maybe it was all the plants near the greenhouses. Bees were constantly gathered around the blossoms, buzzing in a way that Gob had always found strangely soothing. A swarm was gathered in the distance, dozens of bees creating a nice, distracting hum.

Until Pureblood Bill stalked past and opened his mouth.

"I hear Bluth got detention again," said Bill, surrounded by a small group of cronies. "Spilled swelling solution _all_ over the classroom floor—and it wasn't even brewed right. Made stuff shrink instead! But what else can you expect from a Mudblood?"

A couple of girls gasped at the word.

It meant nothing to Gob, but he recognized Bill's tone. Before he even realized it, his wand was in his hand, and he uttered the first impulsive spell that came to his mouth.

" _Accio bees!_ "

The summoning spell, which usually gave him difficulty, actually worked.

A large swarm of bees soared up to Gob with perfect obedience, flying in lazy circles around his head. Gob couldn't help grinning. Bees were _nice_.

He had one problem, though. Now that the bees were in his grasp, he wasn't sure how to command them further. Simply speak to them? Use another spell, which may or may not backfire?

But Pureblood Bill, luckily for Gob, revealed a very important fact about himself: he was petrified of bees. Uttering a gasp, Bill went pale and crumpled to the ground in a faint.

Gob shrugged and pocketed his wand. "That was a freebie."

* * *

Within weeks, everyone was calling Gob the Bee Kid. Which was better than being the Stupid Kid or the Clumsy Kid or the Always-in-Detention Kid.

None of which applied to _Gob_ , of course.

He liked being the Bee Kid. He liked _bees_. They cost him several trips to the Hospital Wing with those stingers of theirs, but it didn't stop him from summoning swarms of them when he got bored. Most of the other kids learned to steer clear of him, but who needed friends when he had bees eating right out of his hand?

Only Tony Wonder seemed to regard the bees with anything other than fear. But he was probably just trying to show off. And it wasn't like Gob paid much attention to Tony, anyway, except when his teachers _made_ him. He was too busy trying to get used to the crazy magical sand castle that was now his home.

The Desert Academy, in an effort to set itself apart from its fellow schools—mainly Hogwarts in Big Britain—did not sort its students into houses. Instead the dormitories were divided by grade and separated by gender to avoid the infamous Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry that Big Britain was famous for. Thanks to children like Pureblood Bill, however, the school did not achieve perfect harmony. Gob had to summon his bees on multiple occasions when the word _Mudblood_ came up in conversation.

Tony, strangely enough, didn't belong to Bill's crowd. Neither did Sally Sitwell, the girl with the stiff eyebrows. Sally was actually Michael and Lindsay's age, and therefore too young to officially attend classes, but she was allowed on campus full-time since the headmaster was her father. Perks of being a Sitwell.

As the months went on, Gob failed to achieve excellency in any of his classes (except for Muggle Studies, of course, which was an easy A, as they said in the Muggle world), but he did manage to set a greenhouse on fire and got detention for letting a dozen mice run loose in the Great Hall.

He got detention a lot, actually. Professor Sitwell always conjured up his Extra Stern Eyebrows for those occasions. (He had them in several different colors.)

While his teachers seemed to enjoy nothing more than singling him out, Gob's parents did exactly the opposite. He barely heard from them, though he heard plenty _of_ them from Michael and Lindsay, who were bursting with curiosity about wizard school. Their parents had tried and failed to reserve a place at the school for Michael, who _unsurprisingly_ possessed no magical ability. So Lucille and George Sr., rather than admit that their golden son wasn't so special, decided that magic was completely and utterly beneath them, and that they didn't want Michael to be some weirdo wizard anyway.

("Having one freak in this family is more than enough," Lucille had declared, while she fitted Buster to his leash and collar. "Imagine how people would talk if we had _two_.")

As his first school year drew to a close and letters from home became increasingly scarce, Gob started to panic over what he would do when he returned home. Students weren't allowed to do magic outside of school, but there had to be _something_ he could do to impress the family. He thought about kidnapping one of the house-elves, but that plan quickly backfired when the little runt bit him and Gob summoned his bees in retaliation. He had one hell of a long, stutter-y time trying to explain why the house-elf was in the hospital wing with a swollen-up balloon where his nose used to be.

It was later that day, in Potions class, when a rare stroke of brilliance hit him. Professor Parmesan, the Potions Master (and world renowned expert in Polyjuice Potion, his personal specialty) was instructing the class on brewing an odorless, colorless potion—perfect for deceptions. Tony, the show-off, kept raising his hand and giving all the answers. Gob would have kicked him if he wasn't seated across the room.

But the lesson did give him an idea. All this talk about colorless liquids reminded him of his mother's favorite water-substitute. At the end of the lecture, his hand shot into the air.

Professor Parmesan, being a professional, was very good at disguising his surprise. "Yes, Mr. Bluth?"

"Um, I was wondering," said Gob, suddenly nervous as all eyes landed on him, "is there a spell that keeps vodka from going bad after you open it?"

* * *

There wasn't. It didn't stop Gob from making a mess out of the library trying to discover it anyway.

* * *

He spent his last month of school in detention.

Which was _fine_. Whatever. It wasn't like he had any achievements to work on. Nothing whatsoever to show for his first year at wizard school. Except for the bees, of course. The _bees_ liked him. And he made Tony look like an idiot in Muggle Studies class when Tony thought an 8-track was for special Muggle trains. That sure deflated his stupid, spiky little head.

But the old panic returned when the end of term approached. He would lie awake at night, picturing his parents' faces when he made it back home, just as ordinary as before. Surely they'd be expecting great things from him, yet according to his professors, he couldn't even ride a broomstick correctly.

(What was wrong with holding his broomstick vertically? It looked _much_ cooler that way.)

In the end, Gob decided to smuggle home some potions ingredients to show the twins. He thought about taking home one of the school owls, but Buster was such a sissy when it came to birds and owls made a mess, anyway. When the last day of the school year arrived, he found himself in another stagecoach with Tony, who wouldn't stop talking about the excellent grades he was bringing home to his stupid Pureblood parents. The stagecoach rattled across the desert, rolling through a sea of dust and sagebrush, while the massive sand castle grew steadily smaller in the distance.

This was it. In a matter of hours, Gob would be back in the Muggle world, where everything ran on electricity instead of magic. Where people with pointed hats and magic wands were just performers hired for kids' birthday parties.

Gob's anxiety kept growing, though he tried to play it off by telling Tony all about his family's fancy penthouse.

"We've got our own maid, too," he casually added, trying his best to lounge in his seat. "She's kind of dumb, though. Keeps calling me _Estúpido_ no matter how many times I tell her it's _Gob_."

"Maybe it's Gob in Spanish?" Tony suggested.

"Dang it, you're probably right. No wonder you're top of the class!"

And Tony wouldn't stop grinning, like he always did when his name slipped out. He was such a smug jerk. Maybe not _that_ much of a jerk. But definitely smug.

With a nice smile.

It kind of ruined the whole moment. Gob fell silent for the rest of the ride, staring off into space while darkness, like an old friend, settled down beside him. He dreaded the train ride. Dreaded being thought of as a _failure_. When the stagecoach pulled to a stop and he was forced to get out, the train loomed before him like a big, dark metal storm cloud of doom. The ability to play it cool had abandoned him.

Gob fell to his knees before the train tracks, clutching his luggage in his arms, and dissolved into a full-blown meltdown.

"Should-should-should—should I—sh-should the boy in the—should the boy in the twenty-Galleon robes—"

This went on for some time, until an attendant took pity on him and hauled him onto the train.


	2. Gob Bluth and the Memory Eraser

Summer vacation went as well as Gob expected.

The family covered up his disappearance by telling everyone he went to a disciplinary boarding school. Thanks a _lot_ , Mom and Dad. He had to hide all his wizard things when company came over—which was often, since the Bluth business was booming nicely—and whenever he _was_ allowed to talk about school, his parents acted like he was little better than an apprentice clown.

"All that time learning magic tricks and you can't even pull a rabbit out of a hat?" his father remarked.

Gob tried to explain that it didn't work that way. He could turn a rabbit _into_ a hat. Sort of.

"Anybody can turn a rabbit into a hat," Lucille scoffed. "Personally I'd prefer ermine. Rabbit can be so _tacky_ sometimes."

It all became so frustrating that when Gob sighed, a burst of sparks erupted from his fingertips. Buster squealed and almost choked himself trying to run away, forgetting that he was currently hooked up on his leash.

"Now you've gone and frightened your brother," said Lucille, shooting a scathing glare at Gob. "And he was so looking forward to his afternoon walk. If you _must_ be a freak, Gob, at least do it privately."

"At least I'm not a _dog boy_ ," Gob muttered to Buster, kicking his seal toy out of the way as he stomped to his room.

* * *

September couldn't arrive fast enough for Gob. He missed the Desert Academy, even if he was always in detention, and he missed his bees. Mostly he missed _magic_. Like being stuck in the Muggle world was a prison sentence and he couldn't have any fun until he was freed back into the world of wizards.

When his second year of school finally began, Uncle Oscar drove him to the train station again. He even helped Gob pick out a new pet, which flopped lifelessly out of his robes the moment Gob stepped off the train.

("Whoops. Is there a spell for pigeon CPR?")

Professor Sitwell greeted the students with a large fuchsia mustache, which everyone talked about behind his back for weeks.

Half of Gob's teachers completely forgot that his name wasn't "Gawb."

Tony Wonder was still (infuriatingly) the most talented kid in Gob's year.

And things got off to a spectacular start when Gob tried out for Quidditch and was jeered off the playing field for riding his broom vertical. Sure, it wasn't great in an athletic sense, but it really did look _so_ much cooler than sitting all hunched over a horizontal broom. _Come_ _on!_

For the most part, it was an agonizing year. Gob spent most of it wishing there was a way to forget uncomfortable incidents, like reaching into his mind with an eraser and rubbing it all out.

* * *

He didn't discover such a spell until his third year at the Academy, which also got off to a spectacular start. Lindsay, by this time, was fully convinced that she was a witch, despite the fact that she had never shown the slightest flicker of magical ability.

"How else could I grow so fast?" she asked Gob as his second summer vacation came to an end. "Mom keeps saying I don't need a bra, that it's just excess calories or something, but she's _wrong,_ Gob. It has to be magic. I _know_ it is! Take me with you!"

Nobody noticed when Lindsay stowed herself away in Oscar's Volkswagen. Nobody noticed her trailing Gob to the train station, where magical students kept appearing and then vanishing onto Track 4 1/2, until Lindsay tried to follow her brother and ended up smacking her head on a solid concrete wall.

Gob _did_ feel bad about it, for a little while, until he discovered something amazing in his Defense Against the Dark Arts class and soon forgot about it. Quite literally.

Professor Lottie Dottie, D.A.D.A. expert, was telling the class about the time she cast a powerful shield charm in a dual.

"My opponent," said Professor Dottie, "had cast a memory charm so strong, it would have erased years of recollection if I hadn't blocked it just in time."

Gob, who had been lounging in his seat, trying to see how many Every Flavor Beans he could fit into his mouth, immediately sat up and spat candy in every direction.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Bluth?"

"Are-are you saying there's a _spell_ that can wipe out _memories_?" Gob demanded.

Professor Dottie stepped aside as a candy bean rolled toward her shoe. "Yes, Mr. Bluth, there _is_ such a spell, though memory modification must be used with the greatest caution."

" _Pfft_ , of course I'd be careful. What, do you think I'd just—that I'd just _erase_ my whole brain or something? That's a good one!"

"Well, I would hope you wouldn't try to erase _anything_. You _are_ only a third-year student."

"With the skills of a first year," muttered Eve Holt, the girl who sat behind Gob.

This deflated Gob's enthusiasm just a bit, until he remembered that there _was_ someone who certainly had the skills to pull off a memory charm. He glanced over at Tony, who was paying close attention to the lesson (as usual, the suck-up), and felt his hands begin to sweat for some reason. Like it was _such_ a big deal asking for a little favor from the great and talented Tony freaking Wonder.

It wasn't like the two of them had never _spoken_ before.

He waited until classes were finished, then waited until dinner was over, then waited a little more until most of the third years were getting ready for bed. Finally, after pacing manically around the boys dormitory, like some kind of Muggle wind-up toy, he stood in the middle of the room and announced:

"I _wonder_ who can help me with this complicated spell?"

Predictably, Tony strolled in from out of nowhere. "Did somebody say wonder?" he asked, also predictably. He'd been doing that a lot lately.

Gob was too desperate to feel annoyed.

"What's the trouble?" Tony asked. "Still stuck on that Transfiguration lesson?"

"What? N-no, that was a piece of _cake_." Gob managed a weak laugh. "Are _you_ still stuck on it?" He sighed, running a hand through his hair, and lowered his voice as he crept closer to Tony. "Actually, uh." He tried to quietly clear his throat. "I need a favor. Can we talk someplace private?"

* * *

"—so this dumb thing happened to my sister and everyone thinks it's _my_ fault, and now my parents are finally writing me letters, but they're not _nice_ letters," Gob spilled out to Tony, once the two of them were alone in a secluded section of the library. "And it'd be nice to just, _you know_ , to just-just, I mean—Should-should-should-sh-sh-should—the boy in the—the boy in the _fifty-_ Galleon robes—"

Tony laid his hands on Gob's shoulders, giving him a gentle shake. "Hey, hey. Back up. _You_ get blamed for everything your siblings do? Same!"

"They think I'm a freak."

" _Same!_ "

"Wait, why would they think _you're_ a freak? You're amazing."

"Yeah, well, my parents think I'm 'unsuitable' "—Tony did W-shaped air quotes around the word—"to take over the family business."

"No way! SAME!"

As the two boys, who had seemed so opposite only moments before, discovered how much they actually had in common, Gob's confidence began to rise. He casually asked Tony if he knew how to perform a certain charm.

"You know, the one where it's like there's a little eraser inside your brain and then _poof!_ your memories are gone?"

"Oh, you mean _obliviate_?" Tony coolly pulled out his wand. "Sure, that's easy."

" _Obliviate_ ," Gob whispered to himself. He had never tasted so much power in a word before.

"Hold still," said Tony, standing inches from Gob, wand at the ready.

It felt strangely intimate, somehow, but not in a bad way. Gob described the memory again, without stuttering all over it, and watched Tony concentrate on the spell. He was wondering _(haha)_ how Tony got his hair to look so perfectly spiky all the time, when suddenly the spell took hold and the most beautiful, carefree feeling washed over him. Gob's eyes slid out of focus and a dopey smile spread across his face.

"You're the best, man," he said, pulling Tony into a hug.

Tony froze, then slowly patted Gob on the back. "Uh, thanks. Any time." He glanced downward and coughed a bit. "Hey, Gob? Is that a dove in your pants? Or are you just _very_ happy to see me?"

Gob quickly pulled out of the hug and inspected his pants. "It is a dove. _Was_ a dove." He groaned as yet another dead bird flopped onto the floor. "Damn it, now I have to sneak in another trip to Illusion Town. I'll be sure to get detention again."

"I can show you a secret passageway," Tony offered. "Sally Sitwell told me about it. She knows every inch of this school."

"You two are close, huh?"

Tony shrugged. "We're friends. There's perks to hanging around a Sitwell."

Gob decided that once he got the hang of the spell, he would _obliviate_ Tony's friendship with Sally, and agreed to use the secret passageway to Illusion Town, the village that sat a short distance from the school.

It turned into a night that Gob, in his determination to master the memory charm, would soon forget.

* * *

He actually became pretty good at _obliviate,_ just in time for Quidditch tryouts. This time he didn't make the team because he was supposedly "too clumsy," and as disappointment washed over him, he accidentally summoned several dozen bees to the Quidditch field. Within seconds, kids in Quidditch robes were hopping onto their brooms and speeding away, shrieking for their lives as bees swarmed around in a massive, buzzing cloud.

"Too clumsy?" Gob shouted at his retreating schoolmates. "Yeah, well-well-well, YOU'RE clumsy!"

He then performed a memory charm to forget his humiliation. Once news of the Bee Kid's antics spread around the school, he was then given detention, which he also quickly forgot.

The rest of the week passed in a confusing cycle. Gob began each afternoon at the Quidditch field for his tryout, unaware that the tryout had already occurred, and proceeded to erase each new rejection. He began each evening with a new detention, which he then forgot to attend, resulting in a brand-new detention as punishment for skipping the original detention.

Whispered rumors of _drugs_ circulated throughout the school. Every few weeks, Gob was dragged into the hospital wing for an inspection, but all the nurse ever found were fresh bee stings.

He became more careful about the memory charm. He would only forget _little_ things, and only when they were really uncomfortable or embarrassing. The drug rumors gradually lessened, though they never died down completely, and no one suspected that Gob, with his unimpressive grades, could actually develop a skill in memory tampering.

Only Tony seemed to suspect sometimes. Gob would walk into class with a glazed look in his eyes, having successfully purged the memory of one incident or another, and Tony would briefly _stare_ at him. It only lasted a moment, but it seemed just as damning as a full-blown lecture from Professor Sitwell. Tony never mentioned the time he showed Gob _obliviate_. Gob never mentioned it either and the two of them continued their separate ways, never mingling unless they got thrown together for a class assignment.

Gob wanted to tell Tony, sometimes, about the things they had in common, but then Tony would perform an impressive spell and Gob would remember (one of the few things he _always_ remembered) that the two of them weren't so _same_ after all.

* * *

After spending his third year mastering the art of forgetfulness, Gob returned home for summer vacation feeling like a new wizard. Things at home remained mostly the same. Buster still wasn't weaned, his mother still drank vodka like her bloodstream depended on it, and Lindsay still pestered him about growth spells—which _yes_ , totally existed, but he swore he never cast any on her. At least not on purpose.

Only Michael seemed different that summer. Instead of begging to see Gob's spellbooks, he kept begging George Sr. to let him work at the banana stand. Like a boring old adult. When Gob offered to let him ride his broomstick, Michael just shrugged and said he didn't have time for games.

"Michael's going to be a fine president someday," Gob overheard his father tell Lucille. "The kid's only in middle school and he's already focused on responsibilities."

_President._

Gob's heart clenched around the word. He'd always sort of assumed that _he_ would be president of the Bluth company. He guessed that was impossible, now that he was a wizard and everything, but part of him still kept _hoping_ anyway. Now it would all go to stupid, responsible, Muggle Michael.

Gob dug in his pocket for his wand so he could _obliviate_ himself. (Several weeks earlier, he had completely erased the memory that students weren't allowed to do magic outside of school. Tony then reminded him, the know-it-all, and Gob promptly erased that memory as well, just to spite him.)

He spent the next hour in bliss, standing in front of the beach cottage with a plastered-on grin, while several bees landed on his shoulders. The perfect picture of happiness, until an irate letter from the Government of Magic wiped the smile off his face.

* * *

The years passed quickly. Before Gob knew it (or didn't know it, thanks to his good friend the memory charm), he was starting his seventh and final year at the Academy.

Several significant things happened at the start of that school year:

1\. Tony finally saved up enough money for an invisibility cloak. He often lurked unseen throughout the school, revealing himself with a flourish whenever the word "wonder" was spoken.

2\. Gob got _this_ close to third base with Eve Holt after she tutored him on his potions essay.

3\. His latest pet, a white mouse, lasted a full ten days before it became dinner for one of the school owls.

4\. Tony and Sally Sitwell were "dating." Or something. Definitely something _stupid_.

5\. They got a new Muggle Studies teacher, a young man named Tobias Fünke. He was the complete reverse of Gob. First, because Gob was obviously as straight as they came (that's what _she_ said), and second, because Tobias was a Squid, so he came from a wizard family but had no magic. (Tony kept telling Gob it was _Squib_ , like Gob was an idiot, but come _on_. What would they do next? Start calling a bird a _birb_?)

6\. Buster, despite having no magical ability, had managed to achieve a wizard-like expertise at becoming near-invisible. The kid was so hard to spot sometimes, Gob _swore_ he had an invisibility cloak stashed away somewhere.

(Oh, and sometime before that, there was this whole big thing about some puny little baby named Harry who single-handedly defeated "You-Know-Who." [Gob didn't know who, actually, and was _really_ getting tired of people not telling him.] It was all anyone talked about for months, though nobody at the Desert Academy had seen the full news report, since the full story was for British eyes only.)

A few weeks into the school year, Gob was headed to Muggle Studies and wondering (silently, of course; you never knew where an invisible Tony might be lurking) why Professor Parmesan thought he missed detention when Gob didn't even _remember_ getting a detention in the first place. His teachers could be so dumb sometimes.

He made it to class and found a seat in the back, where he quickly became distracted by a playbill for the musical _Annie_. Ever since Professor Fünke took over, the Muggle Studies classroom had undergone a makeover. The walls were completely covered by TV, musical and movie posters, many of which had been "borrowed" from Argyle Austero's performing arts theater. There were also a few photos of shirtless men scattered here and there, for reasons that were better left unasked.

"Welcome, class. Welcome!" Tobias announced, springing to the front of the classroom. "I bid thee all a fine afternoon. Today, you are _all_ in for a bit of a treat. I will be temporarily stepping outside my role as teacher and transitioning into the role of—"

He was abruptly cut off when his glasses slipped halfway down his face.

"Pardon me." Grinning broadly, Tobias fixed his glasses and continued. "As I was saying, I will be temporarily playing the part—"

Again his glasses slipped down his face.

Disguising his growing annoyance beneath another smile, Tobias rubbed his hands together and sat upon his desk. "Methinks you all will _greatly_ enjoy this fresh perform—SON OF A BITCH, WHO KEEPS DOING THAT?"

As Tobias' glasses clattered to the floor, the entire class burst into laughter. Gob glanced around the room until his eyes landed on Tony, who was quietly smirking in a corner. Tony had _really_ gotten good at nonverbal spells.

It took a good five minutes for Tobias to compose himself, clumsily perch back on top of his desk, lose his balance, inspire more laughter, repeat the performance, and finally settle for standing once more.

"Let me just cut right to the chase here. I am postponing the lecture on broomstick culture. We handle our shafts quite differently in the Muggle world, but _that_ is a lesson for another time. Instead, allow me to step into the role of part-time self-help guru." Tobias produced a thick manuscript from the top of his desk. "As you can imagine, life as a Squib has entered me into a tight spot. Not freakish enough to be a wizard, nor ordinary enough to be a Muggle, I'm left feeling empty in both worlds. Which is why I have written a book titled, _Filling Two Holes: A Long, Hard Journey to Satisfaction_."

He then attempted to stand on top of a chair, thought better of it, and stood on a particularly thick book to deliver a dramatic reading of his opening chapter.

"...Since my earliest years, I often dreamed of what it must be like to get into the pants of a _true_ wizard. To feel the smooth, firm weight of wood in my hand. Alas that such pleasures were denied me in my magic-less state..."

Gob spent most of the lesson deciding which parts he was going to _obliviate_ from his memory. Probably all of them.

"...but, as they say," Tobias concluded, waving his manuscript with a smile, "somewhere over the rainbow, there's another rainbow!" The smile gave way to a puzzled frown. "What is that _from_?"

As the bell rang, the classroom became a blur of robes as students practically ran for their lives. Tobias called out to their retreating backs:

"For tonight's homework, I want you to write down your favorite Village People song!"

Tony met Sally out in the hallway. Not that Gob was watching or anything. And it wasn't like he _cared_. He managed to score plenty of chicks himself; much more than Tony did, in fact. Probably _hundreds_ more.

(Maybe not hundreds, but it was definitely dozens, which landed Gob in the hospital wing on more than one occasion. Apparently even wizards could get herpes.)

Classes were finished for the day. While Gob tried to ignore Tony and Sally, he wondered ( _damn it_ ) if he should steal a snack from the kitchens before finding a secluded place to _obliviate_ himself. He was soon distracted when a purple ball of glitter came whizzing down the hall in his direction. The ball of glitter hovered several inches from Gob's face, then exploded in a shower of purple sparks. A little card fell from the center of the explosion and Gob snatched it up with trembling hands.

It was from Argyle Austero.

* * *

Argyle was in charge of the seventh-year boys. He also organized the annual school musical, ran a salon in the castle's North Tower, and oversaw a rehab section of the Hospital Wing for troubled students. He kept his office in the deepest corner of the school, nestled among the castle's emergency cement supply, where only the bravest students dared to tread without an invitation.

When Gob approached the office door, a stern-looking wizard in pinstriped robes stepped out of the shadows. His stylish fedora (genuine Gucci) concealed most of his face and he smoked a cigarette through a fancy black holder. He dropped the cigarette to the floor, crushed it beneath the heels of his Armani loafers, and motioned Gob forward with a manicured hand.

"What business do you have with Mr. Austero?" he asked gruffly.

Gob fumbled in his robes, swore when a dead mouse fell out of his pocket, and accidentally sent a shower of Sickles and Knuts across the floor. By the time he produced his invitation card, the impatient wizard had a wand pointed at his face.

"No funny business," the wizard warned. He snatched the card from Gob and turned on his stylish heel, swiftly vanishing into the office.

The pinstriped wizard returned a moment later, still holding his Burberry wand at the ready. He leaned in close to Gob, bringing a whiff of cigarettes and Chanel, and said in a low, dangerous voice, "The boss will see you now."

Before Gob got a chance to declare his huge mistake, he got shoved into Argyle's office. The whole place gave off an intense air of elegance. Lush red carpet, heavy dark furniture, and dim lighting filled the room. Gob rubbed his shoulder, which got sore when the pinstriped wizard shoved him, and figured this was a pretty weird setup for a performing arts teacher. But whatever. He was quickly distracted by a poster of some fancy-ass French musical called _Les Wiz_.

"Welcome, Mr. Bluth," said Argyle, seated in a large leather chair behind the desk. He used his fancy cane to gesture at a jar of candy. "Care for a low-calorie lemon drop?"

Gob took one. "Am I in detention?" he asked.

It seemed like teachers never wanted to talk to him unless they were reminding him about detention, like he was too _dumb_ to remember anything.

Argyle aimed his wand-cane at the radio situated in the corner. A song came on softly over the Wizarding Wireless Network; some knockoff-sounding tune about a Yellow Boat.

"No, Mr. Bluth. You are not in detention. Since this is your final year at the Desert Academy of Magic and Illusions, it is my job to help aid you in pursuing a career. This is a very important time for both of us. You've entered your Grand Achievement Year, in which you'll be measured by your ability to Handle Outstanding Magical Obstacles. This will determine what kind of work you'll be able to perform outside of school."

This was all news to Gob. He'd never really _thought_ about what he would do once he left school. There was always the Bluth company, which wasn't exactly a wizard's dream or anything, but it was something. And he _was_ the oldest kid in the family, so he was entitled to it, like the air to a throne. (Tony always told him he got this wrong too; that it was _heir_ , but that was just hair spelled funny. And every good legacy needed _air_ in order to flourish, right?)

He tried explaining this to Argyle, but he got choked up about eight seconds in. He also forgot about his lemon drop and choked on that as well, until Argyle muttered a spell that dissolved the hazardous candy.

"I have to be honest here," Argyle sighed. "I don't have a whole lot of hope for you."

This was it, then. The part where Gob got told he was worthless, lazy, one step away from being a Squid, yada yada yada, and why couldn't he be more like his brother?

"All of your teachers report that you have absolutely no sense of responsibility, Mr. Bluth," said Argyle, consulting a sheet of parchment on his desk. "Except for Professor Fünke, who thinks—and I quote—you need to grasp your wood more firmly. But the opinion of a Squib, of course, doesn't count for much. All other reports state that you lack motivation, ignore directions, and have a complete disregard for discipline. According to my sister Lucille, your sense of focus is so scattered, it makes her head spin."

" _But_ ," Gob added hopefully, "as numerous tests have proven, I'm _not_ on drugs."

"I don't consider that a point in your favor. At least if you were on drugs, it would explain a few things. If you want to even _think_ about graduating, you need to have at least one B in your classes."

Gob broke into a smirk. "Easy. I can get a ton of bees."

"And we'll need to discuss your possible career path. Your talents and so on. There must be _something_ you can do right."

"I can do push-ups?"

Argyle gripped his cane in a threatening manner. Gob braced himself for an onslaught of curses, but Argyle just sighed again and conjured a bottle of wine.

" _You_ are going to be my biggest headache," he told Gob, pouring himself a glass. "I'm currently tutoring four fantastic students in the art of theatrical illusions, and you don't hold a candle to any of them. Even the first years in my beginner's drama course show more promise than you. But I _believe_ I have an idea. Your classmate Tony Wonder is pursuing a career as a magician in the Muggle world. It's an easy way to make good money. _Too_ easy for someone of Mr. Wonder's talents. I've tried to persuade him from it, but he's determined to be the greatest magician that Muggles have ever seen."

"Figures. He's so _full_ of himself."

"You'd do well to learn from his example. Mr. Wonder is brilliant, but even a wizard with _your_ shortcomingscan earn a living tricking Muggles. It's something to consider, at least. I'd keep a close eye on Tony Wonder, if I were you."

Argyle snapped his fingers. The same pinstriped wizard from earlier came out of the shadows.

"We're done here," said the stylish thug, adjusting his Gucci fedora. He escorted Gob out of the office and nudged him in the back with his Burberry wand. "And _stay_ out."

* * *

It wasn't like Gob had a choice about keeping an eye on Tony.

He was always just _there_ , right in everybody's face, being all perfect and spiky-headed. Always showing off with his stupid invisibility cloak. Like _that_ was so special. If a Muggle kid like Buster could master the art of not being seen, then anybody could do it.

And if Gob was paying a _little_ extraattention to Tony all of a sudden, it wasn't because he wanted to. He was just following orders.

Those theater wizards were _scary_.

* * *

The following week, Tony was absent from Muggles Studies class. Gob immediately noticed because Tobias started class without any mishaps. After delivering a dramatic soliloquy on the virtues of Muggle vacuum cleaners, Tobias pulled out his manuscript and resumed torturing the class with his masturbation book. (Tobias called it "self-help," which had to be the same thing.)

"...I'll never forget the first time I saw a Muggle magic show," Tobias was saying. "It was a rough time for me. All the kids in the neighborhood were headed off to one wizard institution or another, while I was stuck at home attending the local public school. But one day, at assembly, a Muggle magician came to visit the school. Watching his tricks felt strangely comforting. It gave me a sense of safety, like the reassuring roughness of denim against my privates. 'Magic is all around us,' the magician told my class. 'Feel the wonder inside you!'"

With a sudden flourish, Tony appeared in the middle of the classroom, tossing his invisibility cloak over his shoulder. "Did somebody say... _wonder_?"

The girls in class thought this was terribly clever. "I wouldn't mind a little wonder inside me," said Eve Holt.

"Bravo, bravo!" cried Tobias, clapping his hands at Tony's stunt. "You, Mr. Wonder, are a natural performer as well as a brilliant wizard. It thrills me right down to my under-shorts whenever I witness your wand-work. Class, I do hope you follow his example. _Here_ is a young man who puts his ten inches to good use!"

"There's probably a better way to say that, but I'll take the compliment," said Tony.

Of course he would. Mr. Perfect Smug Show-off.

If Gob was capable of nonverbal spells, he would have mentally pulled Tony's chair out from under him when the bastard took a seat, but he had to settle for glaring jealously at the back of Tony's head. It wasn't like he _hated_ Tony or anything. He really didn't. Gob still had a vague memory of their third year, when Tony first showed him _obliviate_ and they discovered their unexpected sameness. The memory was kind of nice. _Tony_ could be kind of nice, when he wasn't busy impressing people, but Gob always shoved that feeling aside where it couldn't bother him. He and Tony weren't friends. Not enemies either, but definitely not friends.

And if Tony was pursuing a magician career and _Gob_ was supposed to pursue a magician career, then that made the two of them rivals.

Gob may have been the oddball in his family, but he was still a Bluth, and there was only one thing for a Bluth to do in this situation.

* * *

"I need a favor," Gob told Eve Holt a few weeks later.

The two of them sat in the library for their semi-regular tutoring session. Eve was far from brilliant at most things, but she had a knack for potions—especially the poisonous ones. The castle saw a significant decrease in rats, roaches, and spiders ever since Eve offered the headmaster some of her pest control brew. She had been tutoring Gob on and off for the last two years, at Professor Parmesan's suggestion (though she still wouldn't take Gob's suggestion that taking her to third base was adequate repayment).

"It's not a sexual favor," Gob hastily added, before Eve could pack up her books and leave in a huff. "It's about, uh, destroying Sally Sitwell!"

Eve, already halfway out of her seat, settled back down. "I hate Sally. She's so sickeningly _perfect_."

"Yeah," said Gob. "She should be called Sally _Shitwell_ , 'cause she shits so much!"

"What's your plan?"

"I'll show you. Get a load of _this_."

Gob flung open his robes, setting loose a few bees that had taken shelter against his chest. ("BEES!" shrieked the pack of fourth year girls seated two tables away, but Gob didn't notice.) From the pocket of his undershirt, he produced two vials of Polyjuice Potion he had impulsively stolen from Professor Parmesan.

And with a rare display of concentration that would have made Lucille Austero fall down in shock, Gob explained his master plan.

The key to bringing down Tony Wonder (and Sally Sitwell by association) was this:

Tony, at seventeen, was legally an adult in the wizarding world. (Barry had been strangely eager when he explained that particular law to the Bluths.) Sally, on the other hand, was still underage. Using the stolen Polyjuice Potion, Gob and Eve could transform into Tony and Sally, capture footage of themselves in a compromising position, and circulate it around the school.

"So this _is_ a sexual favor," said Eve, scooting away from Gob.

"Fine, fine. We'll just make it _look_ like we're doing it!"

" _And?_ "

Gob sighed and shoved a hand into his pockets, then yelped as more bees flew out. He tried his other pocket and slapped a handful of coins on the table.

Eve smiled. "That's more like it. Let's stage it on Halloween night. We can use the Original Shrieking Shack while everyone's feasting in the castle."

(The Original Shrieking Shack—formerly just the Shrieking Shack—was an oversized broom shed on the school campus. It earned its nickname from the numerous—and uncomfortably loud—teenage hookups that occurred within its walls. The name was then stolen by Big Britain in 1971 when a certain werewolf arrived at Hogwarts.)

"Excellent," said Gob. "Everyone will be too busy on Halloween to catch us! Once you transform into Tony and I turn into Sally, we'll—"

"Wait, why would _I_ be Tony? I should be the girl!"

"Oh, _you_ should be the girl? And ruin the whole thing with your _experience_ with boys? I should obviously be Sally because unlike you—and _just_ like Sally—I've never had a dick in me before!"

"Excuse me. I haven't either!"

"Well I've already made all the plans for you to be Tony. It would be weird if we switched it!"

Eve stared at Gob. A stray bee wandered dangerously close to her ear, but she seemed oblivious to its buzzing. "Gob... This isn't even about Sally, is it? It's about Tony."

"Of _course_ it's about Tony. He's my rival and I have to crush him. I just threw Sally in there to get you to help me."

Eve opened her mouth, like she wanted to say more, then closed it. She didn't argue when Gob handed her a vial and instructed her to get a few spiky clippings of Tony's hair, but by the time they left the library she was smirking to herself, caught in some private joke.

They agreed to meet at the Shack on Halloween night.

And Tony's reputation would be _annihilated_.


	3. Gob Bluth and the Definitely-Not-Gay Encounter

The chilly desert nights always felt coldest on Halloween.

Gob fought off the chill by chugging a bottle of firewhiskey, which quickly turned into a second bottle until Eve tugged it away from him.

"What are you doing?" she demanded. "We can't pull off the plan if _you_ can't even see straight!"

"Of course I can see straight," Gob snapped at her. "I'm _super_ straight."

The dorms were currently empty, since all the students and teachers had flocked to the Great Hall for the Halloween feast. Gob sat sprawled on his bed, where he had piled all the supplies they would need for their plan to ruin Tony: a Muggle video camera, a pair of Eve's robes (for Gob to wear when he turned into Sally), a pair of Gob's robes (for Eve), two vials of Polyjuice Potion, and two tiny bags of hair clippings.

"What's with all the booze, anyway?" Eve asked, indicating yet another bottle of firewhiskey stashed among the supplies.

Gob grabbed it and popped off the lid. "I've got to be good and drunk for this. _Obviously._ "

"If you're that scared of Tony's dick, then we'll switch roles."

Gob almost choked on his firewhiskey. "Scared? I'm-I'm not scared of any part of Tony—especially his dick. It's probably tiny, anyway. He'll have to work _really_ hard to make _me_ scream!"

Eve stared at him, eyebrows raised. She'd been doing that a lot lately. "You mean _I'll_ have to work really hard. And I thought we weren't going all the way. Just making it look like we're doing it, remember?"

"Right, right. I knew all of that. I was just taking a dig at Tony! I bet he's such an amazing wizard 'cause he's compensating for something." Gob chuckled and took another swig. "I can't wait to see it. He'll be humiliated!"

Eve gently took the bottle and placed it with the first one she had confiscated.

"Just do me one favor, will you, Gob? In order for this to work, you _cannot_ call me Eve once we transform. Only refer to me as Tony. In fact, you'd better pretend I really _am_ Tony."

Gob could do that easily. Except when the two of them were doing it, of course. _Then_ he would totally remind himself that "Tony" was actually Eve, so it wouldn't be gay or anything.

He made sure he had a blank tape in the Muggle camcorder, then mixed some of Sally's hair with his Polyjuice Potion. The mixture turned pale pink and smelled faintly like strawberries. He watched Eve's potion turn bright purple as she added Tony's hair. Strangely, her potion smelled like honey. Gob ignore it and focused on his own potion, snatching back his bottle of booze so he could chase away the taste of Sally. (Not that it would be _bad_ to taste Sally. It would probably be amazing. Because that was how girls tasted. _Amazing_.)

"Wait," said Eve, right when Gob was about to take a gulp. "We need to be careful about when and where we transform. If someone finds out there's two Sallys and Tonys running around the castle, we're going to be in serious trouble. You should go to the Shack first and set everything up, _then_ turn into Sally. Then I'll turn into Tony and meet you there."

"Why don't we just go to the Shack together?"

"There's something I have to take care of first. I'll get there as soon as I can."

Eve had gotten really bossy since she started helping with Gob's plan, but whatever. Gob gathered up his supplies (along with plenty of booze) and prepared to make his escape.

"Remember," said Eve, smirking one final time. "Tonight I'm not Eve. I'm _Tony Wonder_."

Gob glanced over his shoulder, expecting the real Tony to emerge, but nothing happened.

 

* * *

 

He was shitfaced by the time he turned into Sally.

Being shorter was weird. Having _breasts_ was weird. He couldn't stop poking them.

A single lamp shone in the Original Shrieking Shack, illuminating rows of broomsticks and Quidditch equipment. The camera mounted in the corner caught a perfect shot of Gob exploring his new anatomy while he waited for Eve to arrive.

Gob was poking himself in the chest again when the door creaked open. A figure that resembled Tony Wonder stepped slowly into the Shack. He carried a party favor from the Halloween feast: a hollowed-out pumpkin filled with chocolate frogs and Every Flavor Beans. Gob, in his drunken state, found it all too easy to follow Eve's instructions.

"Tony," he gushed, making a beeline for the Tony-shaped figure. He burst into Sally's high-pitched laugh. "You look so tall!"

The Tony figure frowned in confusion. "I do?"

"And look, I have boobs! Isn't it crazy?"

Tony's frown deepened. "Sally, you're drunk. What's all this about? Eve said you have a surprise for me."

"Wait, how could Eve have told you? I thought _you_ were—" Gob clapped a hand over his mouth, then immediately pulled it away because Sally's lips felt _really_ weird. "I mean, uh, that's right, _Tony._ I do have a surprise for you! A very sexy, not-gay surprise."

"Maybe we should sober up first..."

Man, Eve was an _amazing_ actress. If Gob didn't know better, he'd swear this was the real Tony.

"Don't be ridiculous," Gob slurred, giggling Sally's weird, girlish giggle. "We're supposed to get it on!"

And it definitely wouldn't be gay, since this was Eve he was supposed to screw. Pretend to screw. Whatever.

He pulled Tony ( _Eve_ ) down to his level and clumsily crushed their mouths together. It felt, strangely enough, like the moment he found out he was a wizard. Like something in the world was actually right for once. Too bad Gob was trapped in this tiny, soft _girl_ body, because it ruined everything when Tony started feeling up Sally's stupid squishy boobs.

Also the mouths thing was pretty weird, because Gob couldn't remember Eve being _that_ good of a kisser.

He was about to ask Tony (Eve) if this was the part where they took their clothes off, when Tony suddenly froze.

"Sally, I think there's a bee in your hair. Don't panic."

"Why would I panic?" said Gob, laughing. "Obviously bees think I'm _sweet_." He gently shooed the bee from Sally's hair and watched it buzz off toward the window of the Shack.

Tony had a strange look on his face, like the one Eve often wore when Gob discussed his plan to ruin Tony. (Of course, this _was_ Eve he was with, so Gob guessed the look wasn't so strange after all.)

"You reminded me of someone just now," said Tony. His eyes were focused somewhere over Gob's shoulder, staring off into space. "Someone with a passion for bees..."

Wait, there was someone besides Gob who loved bees?

"Who?" Gob demanded, but Tony shook his head, snapping out of his reverie.

"Never mind. Would you pass me a bottle of firewhiskey?"

 

* * *

 

Soon they were _both_ shitfaced.

They sat side-by-side on the floor of the Shack, empty chocolate frog wrappers scattered between them. Tony put his hand on Sally's puny little girl leg, but Gob didn't even mind because Tony's hand was warm and Gob felt happy. Some deeply buried part of him wasn't sure if he _should_ be happy, but he couldn't remember much of anything, except for the exact shape of Tony's mouth.

(Or was it Eve's mouth? Was Eve supposed to be there?)

"No offense, Sally," said Tony, voice whiskey-thick and close to Gob's ear, "but this is the most fun I've _ever_ had with you."

Gob laughed. "And we haven't even fucked yet!"

"Did you, uh, still want to do that?"

Gob was conflicted. Somewhere in the depths of his hammered-out brain, he knew that Tony's proposal wasn't nearly as gay as it sounded. Gob had _boobs_ , for Merlin's sake. There was no way that any sex between him and Tony could possibly be gay that night. They were just two completely straight dudes (one with temporary lady parts) having perfectly heterosexual relations with each other. Or something.

It didn't matter. He let out Sally's giggle and unfastened his robes. "Lay it on me, Wonder."

For some reason, Sally's voice sounded deeper than before. Tony didn't seem to notice and initiated some more mouth stuff. It felt nice.

Then Tony initiated some _hands_ stuff, which felt even nicer. At least until both of them realized that Sally had somehow sprouted a dick.

"What the— _Gob_ , how did _you_ get here?"

The Polyjuice Potion had worn off, leaving two very bewildered boys gaping at each other. It was shocking enough to knock some sobriety back into Gob. If he was no longer Sally and Tony was supposed to be Eve, then it was only a matter of time until Tony turned back into a girl.

Which meant it was definitely _not_ gay that Tony's hand was still down Gob's pants.

(And that Gob maybe liked it a little?)

"I should, uh, get going," said Tony ( _Eve_ ). He yanked his hand out of Gob's pants and fled the Shack, leaving behind the pumpkin he had brought. Probably wanted to transform back into Eve in privacy. Girls were so _weird_.

Gob collapsed into a whiskey-fueled nap among the empty bottles, then awoke an hour later feeling disoriented and empty, as if he had lost something significant. He got rid of the bottles and chocolate frog wrappers, realized his robes were _much_ too small since he was no longer Sally, and stripped down to his boxers. Last of all, he took the Muggle camcorder from its hidden corner and held it for a long moment, staring off into the old, friendly darkness.

An owl hooted somewhere, snapping him out of his reverie, and Gob snuck back to the castle. Once he was safely tucked behind the curtains of his four-poster bed, he attempted several times to destroy the video tape, but couldn't bring himself to cast the spell. Eve would want an explanation if he failed to deliver the goods, after all.

So he didn't erase the footage.

He didn't erase his memories, either.

 

* * *

 

"So... did you have fun last night?" Eve asked Gob after breakfast the next morning.

She wore that _smirk_ again—the one that looked like she was telling a dirty joke.

Gob scoffed at her question. "Sure, if having your stupid _man_ hand shoved down my pants is supposed to be _fun_."

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Obviously it was the most disgusting moment of my life, Eve. Come on!"

The two of them headed outdoors to Care of Magical Creatures class, a subject Gob had enjoyed until he was banned from handling _any_ and _all_ birds on campus. (All it takes is one dead phoenix and the whole school goes ballistic.) On their way to the animal paddocks, Gob and Eve passed the Quidditch field, where Tobias was praising a group of sixth-year boys at practice.

"Well done, young sirs! Well done! Broomstick culture truly is incredible. It's _amazing_ what you can do with a nice, firm bit of wood between your legs!"

Tony stood at the very edge of class, rather than his usual front and center, looking like he'd barely slept. He took one glance at Gob and immediately averted his eyes.

"I heard he and Sally got in an argument," Eve murmured to Gob. "Seems they both have _very_ different memories of Halloween night. All the better for our plan. Where's the tape, by the way?"

Gob had no intention of handing over the tape, but before he could stutter out a response, class began and saved him.

After that, Tony seemed to disappear. Gob glimpsed him now and then in the hallways, but for a week it seemed like Tony had gone invisible nearly full-time. It was like going to school with Buster.

Once, Gob slipped the word "wonder" into a conversation, just to see what would happen, but Tony didn't take the bait. If he was even there.

It wasn't like Gob went around _looking_ for him or anything.

He tried making out with Eve in a closet to take his mind off of things (which definitely did _not_ include Tony), but _that_ turned out to be a huge disappointment. He could have sworn Eve was a way better kisser at some point.

Like on Halloween. He _really_ enjoyed her on Halloween.

But when he brought that up, all Eve did was smirk again. Why did girls have to be so fucking weird?

 

* * *

 

After another week, Tony caught Gob alone in the dungeons.

Gob had been the last one to leave Potions class. Professor Parmesan kept him back a couple minutes to lecture him on the dangers of over-boiling a sleeping draught (the usual _blah blah blah, you're a screw-up, Mr. Bluth_ that Gob had learned to tune out) and by the time he stepped into the dungeon corridor, he expected to be alone.

With a _whoosh_ , Tony threw back his invisibility cloak and stood in front of Gob. His hair seemed spikier than usual, like he'd been running his fingers through it erratically.

He also appeared more visibly nervous than Gob had ever seen him.

"You looked like you were, um, _wondering_ about something," Tony began, attempting a weak smile.

"I was?" Gob conjured up a mirror and studied his reflection. He usually tried not to wonder about things too much. Made his head hurt.

Tony's weak smile grew considerably more panicked. "Can we talk for a minute? About a certain night? This is going to come off sounding pretty weird, but I haven't been able to get you out of my head these last couple of weeks."

"Same!" Gob exclaimed, voice echoing off the stony dungeon walls. He'd been having a _lot_ of dreams featuring Tony lately. "But not in a _gay_ way, of course. I'm not gay."

"Same." Tony's panic gave way to relief. "Definitely not gay either. Especially not for _you_ —no offense."

"No, none taken. You are the last dude on _earth_ I would ever go gay for."

"I am so glad to hear that, because the craziest thing happened on Halloween night. Somebody must have spiked my drink with hallucinogens or something. I was all alone with Sally in the Original Shrieking Shack and things were _finally_ starting to get serious, when all of a sudden I thought she turned into _you_. The whole thing was bizarre. It felt _real_." Tony coughed and took a step further from Gob. "Not in a gay way, of course. Must have been someone's idea of a sick prank."

"You'd have to be pretty sick to dream up a prank like that," Gob said with a laugh. "Imagine perfect Sally Sitwell turning into _me!_ I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy!"

Gob's ignorance was genuine. He finally _did_ break down and erase his memory of Halloween night. After he erased the video tape. _After_ he got curious and watched the footage of him and Tony.

"Why don't we get a drink in Illusion Town this weekend?" Tony asked. "I'll buy us a round of butterbeers."

"Just me and you?"

"Or I could, uh, bring Sally, if you want. You could bring Eve? We'll be just a couple of straight guys hitting the town with some girls tagging along. How's that sound?"

Gob raised an invisible glass, grinning widely at Tony. "To being straight!"

 

* * *

 

Gob and Tony continued to hang out as the school year progressed. He figured that if he and Tony were going to be rivals, it would only benefit him if the two of them grew close. It was best to know your enemy, after all, and he was getting to know Tony pretty well.

Which meant _soon_ he would be able to destroy him.

(Eve, meanwhile, was congratulating herself on a job well done. Her suspicions about Gob and Tony had been _so_ accurate.)

The months passed. As April turned into May, Gob met Tony for their weekly study session (which mainly involved stolen butterbeer and very little studying) and tried to explain his family's holiday traditions.

"So it's like... the white person's Cinco de Mayo?" Tony asked, struggling to wrap his head around the concept. "Isn't that a little insensitive?"

"Well, yeah, but whatever. It was my mom's idea. _Insensitive's_ her middle name!"

"And why do you call it Cinco de Cuatro? Wouldn't it be Cuatro de Mayo?"

Gob frowned in puzzlement. "What does that mean?"

"Never mind. It sounds like a fun holiday. We should celebrate!"

"Nah, it's just a stupid Muggle thing. You don't have to."

"Are you kidding me, Gob? My parents _never_ allow me to do Muggle stuff. That's why I'm so determined to become the Muggle world's greatest magician. It'll be Mom and Dad's worst nightmare. You have no idea how hard it is to be the perfect Pureblood son all the time. I wish _my_ parents were Muggles. I bet you don't even have to try to impress them!"

"You'd be surprised how hard it is to impress Muggles with magic tricks," muttered Gob. He swallowed down his bitterness and clapped Tony on the back. "But I could go for a good party. Let's make this a Cinco worth remembering!"

"I thought it was Cuatro."

" _Cinco_ de Cuatro, Tony. Try to keep up, will you?"

 

* * *

 

Arygle Austero, never one to turn down a spectacle, was perfectly willing to let the boys arrange the party. It wouldn't be _quite_ as good as the parties at home, since booze wasn't allowed for a school event, but Arygle promised Gob all the pumpkin juice he wanted. Though he seemed skeptical when Gob proposed the idea of drink tickets, to prevent overdoses.

"I don't think that will be a problem, Mr. Bluth," Argyle told him with a patronizing smile.

Which was pretty stupid. (Juice overdoses were very real and _very_ serious.)

But the rest of the preparations went smoothly. Professor Sitwell, like any sane person, was terrified of disappointing Arygle, so he allowed Gob to order a large quantity of piñatas, sombreros, and maracas. The castle house-elves slaved over their stoves for hours, mastering the art of Mexican cuisine, while Argyle trained the school band to play mariachi music.

No matter how many times Gob explained it, some people _still_ had trouble grasping the concept.

"Your family celebrates this every year?" said Sally. She sounded scandalized, though her eyebrows said otherwise. "By undermining a Mexican holiday and making sport of their culture in order to suit your needs?"

"We're not _undermining_ anyone," said Gob. "That's why our holiday is on a completely different day!"

"Plus, it's a family tradition," said Tony. "You know how important those are."

"Not when it's tradition from a _Muggle_ family. This should be beneath you, Tony." Sally glared into her goblet of pumpkin juice. "And why are you siding with _Gob_ , anyway? You're dating me, not him."

Gob and Tony broke into identical, forced laughs. "Ridiculous," said Gob. "As if Tony and I would ever—you have to be _gay_ for that, first of all, which neither of us obviously _is!_ "

"Could have fooled me," muttered Sally. She left behind her juice and stalked off, disappearing into a bright crowd of donkey-shaped piñatas.

Gob and Tony were left standing in silence so uncomfortable, Gob felt it _itching_ the back of his neck. He slapped at an imaginary bug and sidled a step away from Tony. "Pretty crazy how juice brings out the worst in people, huh? You should see what it does to my baby brother."

"Sally is kind of..." Tony waved his hand vaguely through the air. "She misses the point. You always have to over-explain things to her. Don't get me wrong—I really _like_ her, but sometimes she can be—"

"Kind of a drag?" Gob finished.

"Exactly!" cried Tony, an ecstatic smile on his face. It vanished once he remembered who he was smiling at.

The uncomfortable moment intensified.

"Well, I'm going to go and, uh, have a lot of straight sex, probably," said Gob.

"Same! Definitely. Have fun with that!"

The two of them parted ways, losing themselves in different sections of the Cinco de Cuatro crowd. With mariachi music pounding in his eyes and far too much juice in his system, Gob eventually ran into Eve and practically dragged her to the boys dormitory. Eve, who had been steadily drinking her own share of juice (secretly spiked with firewhiskey), didn't protest.

"I need to have large amounts of heterosexual intercourse with you," Gob said the moment they were alone.

"Why?" said Eve. "Is homosexual intercourse with Tony off the table?"

Her question hit Gob like a punch in the face. "Why-why-what does _Tony_ have to do with it?"

"Come on, Gob. Admit it. All these months you've been _obsessing_ over him. That's why I thought it would be funny if I set the two of you up on Halloween. That wasn't me you were with in the Shack. It was the _real_ Tony, and I'll bet this entire castle that you _liked_ it."

Gob felt like a hundred tiny hammers were whacking at his skull. Nothing made sense. He didn't even remember Halloween. Did they even _have_ Halloween that year? It was all just a big blank patch somewhere in his brain; a gaping black void where nothing lived, except for the fragments of an old feeling. He couldn't identify the feeling; only that it was vague and pleasant and made him smile Eve mentioned _Halloween_ and _Tony_.

"Quit speaking in riddles, Eve," he snapped at her, shoving the feeling aside. "I came here for sex, not mind benders."

Eve giggled at him, drunk on juice and firewhiskey. "I doubt you could get it up for me. Go ahead and _try it_."

He did try. And he succeeded, though it had absolutely nothing to do with Eve whispering _Tony_ in his ear at some point. He probably misheard her, anyway. She could have been slurring the word _honey_ , which made perfect sense since she _knew_ how much he loved bees. (And not Tony. Definitely not Tony.)

Eve let him fuck her on his four-poster bed and after it was over, he left her alone and drew the curtains, hiding her from sight.

He felt sick. Too much juice, probably. He knew the juice was a bad idea.

What happened on Halloween? He tried to remember, but all he could recall was a series of Halloweens from his childhood, before he found out he was a wizard. One year he convinced all his siblings to dress up in Star Trek uniforms. Michael wanted to be Captain Kirk, _of course_. Kept insisting the pointy Spock ears would look better on Gob. Lindsay didn't care who she was, as long as the skirt of her uniform flattered her enough that Lucille let her off without forcing her to diet. It would have been a perfect night, if baby Buster hadn't cried when Gob ate his candy. (The wuss.)

_Tonight_ should be a perfect night. He finally got to fuck Eve Holt. Somewhere outside the boys dorm, his classmates were inhaling juice and burritos thanks to a party _he_ had organized. The sheer success of it made him lightheaded, so Gob found the nearest bathroom and sat on a toilet to steady himself.

An avalanche of self-loathing crashed down on him instead. (Too much juice. Should have said _no_ to the juice.) Out of habit, out of pure _reflex_ , Gob raised his wand and pointed it at his forehead.

He had only one cure for this kind of ailment.

" _Obliviate_."


End file.
